


Covered in Mud

by Starla-Nell (Princess_Nell)



Series: The Bournshire Boys [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dennet Cameo, Fluff and Angst, Redcliff, Teagan Cameo, Young Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Nell/pseuds/Starla-Nell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair finally gets to talk to a mage! </p><p>Young Alistair helps Owain make an important decision. Arl Eamon makes a decision for Alistair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covered in Mud

**Author's Note:**

> It might help to read Long Live Spot to meet young Owain and learn what he's so stressed about.

Owain climbed off of his horse and handed the reins to the stable hand, who was about his age. “Welcome to Redcliff,” he rumbled to each of them, adding “ser” when welcoming the Templars. The young man had dark skin and hair, and eyes full of mischief. When he led the horses toward the water troughs to cool down before feeding them, even the Knight-Captain’s spirited mount made no objection.

 

“Stay in the courtyard. I have some business to attend,” directed the Knight-Captain. Owain wasn’t sure if this was for him, Ser Clancy, or Sers Keelin and Gethin, who had accompanied the Knight-Captain, but it made no functional difference: since he’d turned himself into the Templars just south of Honnleath, they were his constant companions.

 

Owain glanced about the courtyard. It was pleasant enough, though well-used. There was no garden here, but a large tree sprawled to the right of the entry. The stench of the horses in the nearby stable was at a more tolerable level than he would have expected, perhaps because of the hay or the crisp fall breeze. In any case, “waiting here” might include some contact with an actual, full-sized tree. He settled in at the base of the trunk to do a little people-watching.

 

A few of the castle guards chatted with the Templars who accompanied him, but the Templars were always casually facing him. The stable hand was leading the horses to their stalls, and soon disappeared entirely. In one corner, there was a dirty boy, about ten years old, with a shock of red hair. He was pacing aimlessly, dangling something that looked like an amulet from its chain and talking. Alarmed, Owain listened in: “Look at Dennet, all suave and clean. ‘Welcome, sers.’ Hmph. It’s not like I can levitate. Maybe that’s it. Mother, do you think he’s secretly a mage? Maybe he learned from his horses.” As little sense as this made, the boy seemed delighted at the prospect.

 

Owain thought to himself, “Great. A red-haired apostate, hidden in Redcliff. Well, we’ve got templars here. I suppose if he gets out of control, they can handle it.” Owain realized how much he’d relied on the idea of the Templars being right there to check the magic of his fellow mages – and himself. Relief at knowing the apostate wouldn’t get far had also been in the faces of the Honnleath market-goers when the three of them had come back through town a few days ago. Ser Keelin had explained that they would guard him from the villagers, as much as the other way around.

 

For that Owain was grateful. There was some hatred in some of the faces, too. He’d heard someone say, “Why do we even keep mages, anyway?” That’s when Owain first realized he had been an apostate during his trip south. Worse, his attempt to help that girl had involved using dangerous and illegal magic. Owain pressed his head into the rough bark behind him, eyes closed. He didn’t know how he would live down the shame of it back at the Tower.

 

“Wow, you look miserable. Cheer up, it’s not that bad.”

 

Startled, Owain opened his eyes to find the “apostate” hovering over him. “Maker’s breath!” He scooted away from the boy, toward the Templars, losing his place at the tree in the process.

 

The boy had the gall to laugh! “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“It’s – it’s not that. You’re … looming a bit.” Owain kept an eye on the redhead’s hands. Hand motions are important when casting magic, especially at first.

 

The boy finally had the good grace to look a bit humble. “Sorry about that.” He sat down, right in the mud. Owain realized the slight, but wiry boy only seemed threatening because he was higher. He was actually much smaller than Owain. “How’s this?”

 

Owain winced as he thought about what some of his teachers would have to say about the mud stains. If this kid was an apostate – which Owain was beginning to doubt – he had clearly never set foot inside a circle. Then again, the boy was already covered in thick, gloopy mud. Maybe he needed to freshen it up. It was drying a bit at the edges.

 

In his hand – which was clean – he was holding the suspect amulet, also clean. “Is it … magical?”

 

“What, this?” The boy looked amused. “I wish. No, this is a keepsake from my mother.”

 

Owain tried to suppress his relief, but apparently failed because the boy said, “You don’t like magic? How does that work? Aren’t you basically made of magic?”

 

Owain was startled by the idea. Is that what people thought, outside of the Circle? “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” For some reason, he was having trouble working up the appropriate amount of huff. He looked again at the jocular face across from him, and gave up.

 

“Oh, good, you can smile. You were looking so miserable there, I was starting to worry. Too much frowning is bad for your health, you know.”

 

Owain frowned at his shoes. “You don’t know much, do you?”

 

“Well, I … no, I guess I don’t.”

 

“You should change that.”

 

“Enlighten me?”

 

Owain looked up at the hopeful Redcliff boy, pondering. “I’ve just come from an incident of the – willful misuse of magic.” Owain decided that talking about this as if someone else had made his mistakes was safest. “Some people can’t just listen to warnings about how dangerous magic is. They can’t just take the experience of others and apply them to their own lives. No, some people have to make all their own mistakes. When those people are mages, bad things can happen.”

 

“What happened? What made you so angry?” Suddenly the boy was serious, maybe even caring. Owain lifted an eyebrow at him, but the boy insisted. “You can tell me. Who would I tell?”

 

“There was a mage, almost of age. He wanted to go home before – an important decision. An important event. Ask for forgiveness, maybe. I don’t know. He needed some sort of closure, needed them to know that he was better than he used to be.

 

“Maybe it was arrogance. Thinking he knew better than Wynne. You see, he wanted to give Sophie a chance to say good-bye to her cat, who had crossed to the Fade. So he tried to bring it back, temporarily.”

 

“Really? How's that even possible? Like a dead cat? Wow.”

 

“You’re impressed too easily. It didn’t work out so well. The cat came back – wrong.” Owain hung his head. “That poor girl. Her face. I don't know if she'll ever forgive me.”

 

“Wait, what did you do?”

 

Owain looked up to see the confusion plastered all over the boy’s face. “It was me, spawn brain. I called across the Veil to her cat, and it came back and attacked her.”

 

That set the boy back. “But … I mean … I'm sure she will ...”

 

Owain gave the boy his best you-are-a-maggot look. “I'm not sure she should.”

 

“What?”

 

“What I did was unforgivable. I called a demon from the Fade, and it attacked a child. Now I’m ‘hated and accursed by the Maker.’”

 

“Comon, I know cats are bad, but they're not demons. That was awesome! It worked! Too bad the cat attacked her, but it’s not like it was you.”

 

Ugh, it was so much work to enlighten this idiot. Why did he try? “I opened the possibility, the door from the Fade. It could have been so much worse.”

 

“But - but it wasn't!”

 

Owain wouldn’t be dissuaded by the child’s simple logic. “Next time it could be.”

 

“Next time you'll know better.”

 

Owain panicked at the thought. “Will I? What if next time, the demon addresses me, makes me an offer I can't refuse? What if I become that cat, a shell for a demon to attack my friends with? No, no! I can't bear it! I will not be a danger to others.” He thought about his shame, and wished he could lock it away where he didn’t have to feel it.

 

“How could you be a danger, with that attitude?”

 

“You are as foolish as you look, aren't you?” Owain knew the answer, his wish come true. He’d known for a long time what he would do, but there was no turning back once you’ve made that choice. “I can end it.”

 

“Look, don't do anything rash ...”

 

“I will not preserve myself and watch everything I love die!”

 

“Calm down! They won't die!”

 

Owain felt his resolve solidify. “Exactly. If I can always be calm, nothing will possess me. The things I love will be protected from me.”

 

“That worked? That never works! I don't understand.” The boy studied Owain, hopefully. “Are you really okay?”

 

“Of course I am. I've made an important decision. Why wouldn't I be?” Oops, this kid might open that avenue of discussion. Better to change the subject. “By the way, why are you covered in mud?”

 

A voice came from one of the side entrances: “Alistair? Alistair! Where are you? Eamon wants to see you.”

 

The boy leapt up immediately. “Andraste’s knickers! Hide me!”

 

“Andraste’s -  Hide you? Where? How?” Owain stood more sedately, brushing off his robes.

 

“I don't know. Use magic or something!” Alistair – clearly that was the boy’s name – ducked behind the tree they had been sitting next to.

 

The young man who had been calling came down the stairs during this exchange and spotted the boy’s pitiful attempts to hide. Owain knew too well that running around in a panic is the best way to get seen. “Alistair. There you are.”

 

“Teagan, lovely day, isn’t it?” Ali – Owain couldn’t quite call him by that grandiose name, even mentally – peeked around the tree.

 

Teagan looked in askance at Owain, who shrugged in response. Teagan rounded the tree. “Alistair! Why are you covered in mud?”

 

Owain couldn’t help it. He laughed and said, “That’s what I just asked!” Oh, it was good to have this burden lifted.

 

“Well, Dennet and I were playing follow the leader…”

 

“And you followed him into a mud wallow?”

 

“Well, more or less. Except he didn’t fall into it. That was my own addition.” Ali stepped away from the tree to perform a somewhat courtly bow.

 

“Wait, you fell?” Teagan laughed, surprising Owain. The clothes made him seem aloof, but this man was actually quite warm.

 

“Well, apparently he’s done it before.” Was Ali purposely being comically pitiful?

 

“Done what?”

 

“Slid along the mud. How he stays standing …” Ali demonstrated in place, throwing his arms up, one foot in front of the other, adjusting slightly as if balancing.

 

Teagan smiled some more, but apparently he had an important mission. “Alistair, listen, you should get cleaned up right away. You’re meeting with the Knight-Captain now.”

 

“What? Ser Important Pants? Now?”

 

Teagan nodded his confirmation. “And you’ll show him the respect he deserves. He’s just returning from capturing a dangerous apostate mage.”

 

“He isn’t dangerous.” Ali turned toward the mage in question, suddenly formal. “I’m sorry. We never got to introductions. I’m Alistair, boy of the stables and apparently at the Arl’s beck and call.”

 

Owain doubted that was it, if he was being asked to join the Arl for a meeting with the Knight-Captain. His mouth quirked ironically. “Owain. Pleased to meet you.” He imitated Ali’s earlier bow.  

 

“I beg your pardon. You’re the apostate?” Teagan turned a bit to address Owain.

 

“Apparently, yes.” Owain followed Teagan’s next glance. The Templars were still chatting casually with an eye on them. They were in full armor. The handles of their weapons gleamed reassuringly over their shoulders. 

 

Teagan continued, “Alistair, that’s not the point. Eamon and the Knight-Captain need to talk to you in Eamon’s office. I can buy you a little time, but you really shouldn’t be seen like this.”

 

Ali smiled brilliantly. “Thanks, Teagan. I owe you one.”

 

“Go on, scamp. Why do I feel like I’ve been blood controlled?” Teagan threw a wink at Owain, and he felt that they had just shared a joke at Ali’s expense. The boy didn’t seem to notice. As he ran off to clean up and hopefully change, Owain dug a book out of his pack and settled against the tree again. When his shame was gone, he’d still have his knowledge.

 

Owain was just getting to a particularly interesting point about magical artifacts when he heard a shattering noise, followed by Ali’s voice, clearly audible through the open castle doors. “Me?” It was really more of a shriek, impressively high, even for a boy so young. “No, I didn’t do this. Templars can’t have personal things. You destroyed it with your ‘what’s best!’ I might as well not exist!”

 

Ali came barreling down the stairs toward the stable, but paused to catch his breath at the tree. He glanced down at Owain. He had a look in his eye that was disturbingly familiar, out of place in this courtyard. “Well, I guess we’re to be traveling companions.”

 

“Heh. Now who needs to calm down?”

 

Ali returned the wry smile, but it didn’t reach those eyes. “Ah, that’s why it never works. Doesn’t explain why it worked on you, does it?” As he marveled that the kid could be so inquisitive even when he was so angry, Owain placed the expression. It was the same as the look new young mages had when they first arrived at the Tower. As if their entire lives up until now had just been swept away. Aha, so that was it. Alistair was promised to the Chantry.

 

“I get the feeling you’ll learn, eventually.” Owain turned back to his book. He had so far to go to catch up with the others.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next: Cullen includes Ori, but does he really want to tag along for this?


End file.
